


Sawdust in his Shoes: Tales from the Circus

by Shazrolane



Series: The Archer [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Ultimates, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Circus!Clint, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint in the circus, Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Avengers (2012), chapters vary in rating, each chapter will be rated in the beginning notes, first chapter is fluffy, life in the circus, mostly - Freeform, so does she
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazrolane/pseuds/Shazrolane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courage doesn’t mean you’re never scared. Courage means doing what you have to, even when you’re scared. Clint Barton spent many of his formative years in a circus, as a runaway from the system and the law. He's got a lot of stories to tell from that time, and sometimes, in the dead of night, he shares them.</p><p>Story is completely written and just needs final editing. Will be published one chapter per week, probably on Fridays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint loves Doritoes. So do ostriches. These facts are related.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter: swearing, mild danger, bit of humor. As always, this was made much better by the input of the people at The Beta Branch.

Clint leaned forward in the chair, staring off into the corner of the room, a slight grin on his face.

“So, this one time, when I was new at the circus and too scrawny to do much, I was helpin’ Mike set up a mobile fence for the ostriches, and these two pieces of fencin’ had been tied together with baling twine. The knot was all fucked up and it wouldn’t come loose, so I wanted the screwdriver to work at the knot. Mike threw it and I missed the catch and the screwdriver hit me right in the finger, still got the scar, see?” He held the hand out for inspection. “So I start swearin’ and Mike comes over and wants to look at where I’m bleeding. I tell him off because seriously, I’m seeing bone! So he cuts the twine, sticks the screwdriver into the place where we were supposed to put the pin, and drags me off to go see Pat, who was kinda our nurse. She stitches me up and everything’s fine, right?”

“Only what we both forgot was that the screwdriver handle was red. Now I’m guessin’ at some of this, but I know some birds like chickens and I guess ostriches really like red. So the ostriches are peckin’ at this damn screwdriver, and they manage to pull it out, so that fence panel falls over. So Mike and I are heading back and we hear some screams but we just look at each other and shrug because we’ve got shit to do, and for once we’re being responsible.”

“We get to the pen, we see the fallen panels and no fuckin’ ostriches. We both start running towards where we heard the screaming and sure as shit, there’s ostriches wandering around the midway. And of course there’s people chasin’ them, which is going about as well as you’d expect. Ostriches are running and crashin’ into people. Half of the kids are screamin’ because they’re scared, and the other half think this is the best thing ever. Parents are pushin’ strollers like they’re in the Daytona 500, chicks are hidin’ behind their dudes and there’s some dudes hidin’ behind their chicks. I saw one woman push three kids and a guy behind her and then she stood her ground, poppin’ an umbrella in one ostrich’s face. It stops in its tracks, spins and starts headin’ the other way. There’s popcorn flyin’ everywhere, half the stuffed animals from one of the games are on the ground because some dude is tryin’ to climb the walls, there’s powdered sugar on everything.” 

“Obviously chasin’ them wasn’t gonna work, so I started thinking about catching chickens when was I still living at the Wilkerson’s. You chase chickens, they’re gonna run and fly until they squeeze into some spot you can’t get to. But if you sit still and give them food, they’ll eventually walk right up to you. So I run up to Carson, who says hello to me the way he usually did.” Clint puffs his chest out and raises the pitch of his voice just a bit, “Pigeon, care to explain any of this to me?” 

“So I say to him ‘It’s just like chickens, boss. We gotta stop chasin’ them and let them calm down, then give them some food and they’ll walk right in that pen.” He looks at me for this really long minute, then he grabs his bull horn and yells into it ‘EVERYONE STOP MOVING NOW!’ Now you gotta know, this guy was the ringmaster. He had that Voice that made everyone listen and damned if they didn’t stop runnin’, for the most part. Then he says, calmly ‘I need guests to move into the big tent. Employees, form a line around the south end of the games and food.’ It took a bit, but everyone did what he said. Meanwhile, I’m runnin’ to one of the food trailers that sells stuff, and I’m grabbing every bag of Dorito’s I can find.”

 

“Why Doritos? I don’t know, everyone likes Doritos, right? I like ‘em. Horses like ‘em. The giraffe liked ‘em. It’s the one thing we always sold out of. So we always bought extra and this time we had a ton of them layin’ around. So I pour out a few piles of Doritos in the place we’ve sort of staked out as the ostrich containment zone, and then we sit tight.”

“We wait for half an hour and the ostriches stop runnin’ around and start eatin’ the Doritos and drinkin’ from the duck race troughs. I get in place and Carson tells everyone ‘Walk in a fence like fashion.’ So we’ve got all the roustabouts, the carnies, the food sellers and the performers, walkin’ along. Half the performers are in their practice clothes which were usually old performance costumes, so this is like some demented parade. Meanwhile, I’m in the front, layin’ down Doritos. Sure enough, eventually the ostriches start peckin’ at the Doritos. And things are goin’ good, right? Because they’re followin’ me.”

“Yeah, you guessed it. This is about the time they figure out that I’ve got the Doritos, and I’m a hell of a lot smaller than they are. So this big male spreads his wings out, HONKS at me, I swear to you, and he comes right at me. I turn and run as fast as I can, but they’re still comin’. So I’m runnin’, and screamin’ at Mike ‘Get the gate!’ I look back, and I got the entire crew chasin’ after these damn birds, only there’s no way they’re close enough to help me, right?”

“About that time, the ostriches catch up with me, and they’re peckin’ me all to hell and back. Those beaks are big, and even bigger when you’re small, you know? I dump the chips out on the ground, but it’s like these things have smelled blood and now they ain’t gonna stop until they get some.”

“So I get this crazy idea. I grab some stupid toy off of a souvenir cart, something with a pole and this little bird thing that’s supposed to look like it’s flying at the end of the pole. I stick the bright red Dorito bag over the end of the pole. I put one foot on this little tiny ledge at the bottom of the cart, and I push off, and jump onto the back of one of the males. He starts spinning around, trying to get to me, and I wave the Dorito bag on the pole in his face.”

“Damned if he doesn’t stop goin’ after me, and start goin’ after the bag. So now he’s runnin’ as fast as he can, tryin’ to get the bag that I’m holdin’ out in front of him. I look back, and I got the whole flock followin’ me. I’m like the freakin’ Pied Piper of ostriches. I can kind of get the one I’m ridin’ to turn left, ‘cause that’s the hand I’m holdin’ it in, but if I try to move it to the right, it just sort of pushes him in the face and he gets mad at me and starts honkin’ again.”

“So I’m leadin’ him through the whole grounds, only makin’ left turns, with the flock followin’ me. Anytime I have to make a big left circle to end up going right, the rest of the flock catches up and starts peckin’ at the Dorito bag. So I’m tryin’ to steer my ostrich, and at the same time it’s the weirdest imitation of jousting that you’ve ever seen.”

“Well it seemed like forever, but it was probably only five minutes or so, before I finally manage to get into the ostrich pen. Then I have to keep my bird runnin’ around in a circle while the rest of the birds kind of trickle in to the pen. We finally get them all in, and shut the gate and get the fallen fence piece in and secured. And everyone starts cheerin’ and shit, but here I am still stuck on the ostrich. So I finally just throw the pole as far away from me as I can, and jump and roll right out underneath the fence.”

“So that’s what I think about every time I eat Doritos. How much ostriches like them, and how I managed to get hen pecked and be a sort of celebrity in the circus at the same time.”

As Clint’s voice, rough from hours of stories, fell silent, he could once again hear the nurses’ quiet conversation at the desk. 

He leaned forward, just enough to rest his forehead against her shoulder, as the ventilator became the loudest sound in the room once again.


	2. Bread and Circuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bread and circuses; a sense of belonging and comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't think of any warnings in this one; if you feel that I missed something, please let me know.

Sawdust in his Shoes  
Chapter 2 Bread and Circuses

“They’re saying that the bleedin’ is slowin’ down.” He looked up from his feet and took a deep breath. “But they’re telling me that you might not recover. They tried to run me off for a bit, but I think I finally got ‘em to understand that it wasn’t happenin’. But that fuckin’ ventilator creeps me the hell out. I hate how it sounds, so I’m gonna keep talkin’.”

“Everyone’s always surprised by this, but one of the things that I loved the most about the circus was how much routine there was. Most days were pretty much the same. It the first time I had somethin’ like that.”

“When we showed up at a new spot, the caravans, sorry, the campers and RV’s would form up in what we called the backyard. Everyone always parked in the same spots. I mean, Ron was always next to Sally with her performin’ birds, Madame Zanzibar was always next to Marcela, the Bearded Lady. Stuff like that. So even though we mighta drove a few hundred miles, it was like we were back in our own little town, you know?”

“The animal handlers would pull those trucks and trailers up into another separate area. Darko would get Marlene and Peanut, those were our elephants, out of their box truck. They’d go get the canvas for the big tent outta that truck and carry it in their trunks over to where it needed to be. Then the girls, sorry, the women, would spread it out on the ground. I dunno why it was always the women who did that…”

“So anyway, this was after I graduated from settin’ up the animal fences to helpin’ set up the big tent. About all I could do at set up was to fetch the stakes, and then I held ‘em while Gary or Marconi pounded them in. They swung the hammer in huge circles behind and then up over their heads. They hit that stake perfect, right on the head every single time. Still scared the shit outta me for the longest time.”

“First couple of times, I dropped the stake and backed up, kinda scramblin’ backwards, you know what I mean? They got frustrated, then mad. Finally Carson came out and helped. I dunno if I told you this or not, but he was a small guy. Bigger than one of them, whaddya call ‘em, little people? Bigger than that, but not by much. So yeah, here’s this little guy, holdin’ the stakes for Marconi, who was huge, and he never flinches, and Marconi never misses.”

“So Carson pulls me over and says ‘Courage doesn’t mean you’re never scared. Courage means doing what you have to, even when you’re scared. Have you ever done what you needed to do, when you were scared?’ I can’t tell him ‘bout Wilkerson, he’d hate me, right? But yeah, that was what I thought of. So I says ‘Yeah.’ And he smiles at me, and says ‘Go be brave, and help.’ So what could I do? I held that damned stake.”

“This whole time, the rest of the performers would be settin’ up a few smaller poles around one edge of the big tent. Darko would bring in one of the elephants, usually Marlene, with a large leather strap across her chest. I never knew why, but I loved watching those elephants. Marlene was bigger, like this movin’ mountain, but she never got tangled in the chains. They’d get all up around her legs, but she’d just pick up a back foot, step over it just as smooth as you or me would do. Maybe that’s why I liked her; she was so big and so strong, but so gentle.”

Clint was lost in thought for a while, then shook his head and continued on.

“She’d move to the base of the tall pole. As soon as it was hooked to the chains, she’d walk forward, draggin’ the bottom of the pole along the ground. The top was already attached to the canvas, so that pole just pushed itself and the canvas up into the air. Neatest trick you ever saw. Meanwhile Darko’s daughter Svana would be doing the same with Peanut. It wouldn’t take long for all four of the big poles to be set up.”

“After that, they’d take the elephants off to help raise the other tents, for the animals, and the cook tent and stuff. The small poles would get set up around the edge, and Marconi and I would stake ‘em down with these thick nylon straps. In a few hours, this empty field would be our circus, with the big tent and banners and the side show. It always made me feel like I was part of something important.”

“But the best part of every set up was that Madame Zanzibar, our fortune teller, would bake bread. A few hours after we pulled into place, the smell of fresh bread would be spreadin’ all over the site. You could even smell it over the manure.”

“I was a dumb shit, so the first few times I tried to steal some bread. Somehow she would always know where I was, and she’d smack me with her cane. She was this tiny little thing, but man she could leave a bruise!” Clint chuckled at the memory.

“What I eventually figured out was that if I offered to help her set up her camp, or fetch water for her or somethin’ like that, she’d give me a slice or two of the bread. And she had this homemade jam that she’d put on it. That bread and jam was, it like the best thing I’d ever eaten. I’d find a safe spot, up high, and just cram the bread into my mouth.”

“If we stayed at a location more than a week, she’d bake again. Didn’t take me long to learn her schedule, so I started hangin’ around her RV. So one day, she invites me in, sayin’ her arthritis was botherin’ her somethin’ fierce, and she can’t knead the bread. I wasn’t too sure ‘bout getting’ in the caravan with her, but she was this tiny, old woman whose hands hurt. It was probably safe…”

“I’m thinkin’ ‘bout what Carson told me ‘bout courage, so slink into her caravan. It’s small, a lot like the one me and Barney and our old man lived in.”

“I lasted less than five minutes that day. But I tried again, and again, and eventually, I did it, with Madame Zanzibar always sitting at the table at the far end of the space at her table. I always worked at the kitchen counter. And I learned a lot from her.” 

“I learned how to measure the flour.” Clint’s voice changed, became higher pitched, with a touch of an Eastern European accent, “Use the spoon to put it in the cup, boy, don’t just scoop it!” He grinned, then continued. “She taught me how to proof the yeast in water that was just the right temperature, and how to measure honey without it stickin’ in the cup or spoon. I learned how to handle the dough right when I was kneadin’ it, and how to stretch it and roll it. I learned that this was somethin’ I could do. That she believed in me, when a whole lotta other people hadn’t.” 

“The dough had to rise twice, and then bake, so there was a lot of time when I didn’t need to be workin’ directly on the dough. That was when she taught me how to sew sequins back onto costumes, or how to repaint faded sign boards. And…”

“I learned fractions and math by addin’ and subtractin’ and countin’ cups and half cups and three-quarters of a cup. I learned to tell time on her clock by watchin’ and waitin’ and kneadin’. I learned biology and chemistry and… 

His voice grew quiet. “I learned that there was somethin’ nice in just being in the presence of another person. Someone who needed my help. When it was cold, those were the only times I was truly warm. Sometimes, neither one of us talked the whole time. It was a warm, comfortable, safe place.”

“Madame Zanzibar would let me make two loaves, and take one for me. The bread usually lasted me three days; it would have lasted longer, but I always shared with Marlene and Peanut.”

Bread and circuses; a sense of belonging and comfort. He’d found it again with her. 

Damned if he was going to lose it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Meg_NeverMore, MomoftheShire, Levynite, writer314, Darklady, skeptic7 and Tharin47 (as well as guests!) for kudos and comments; they are always greatly appreciated.


	3. Training Cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started with some cats, and a guy who was crazy enough to think he could train them, and patient enough to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to the kind people at The Beta Branch.

Now that the respirator had been removed, the room was even quieter than before. Clint didn't last long before he started talking again. “Doctors say since you’ve made it this long, you’re gonna live. They’re still thinkin’ you might be…your brain might be…” he took a deep breath. “Well, you’re gonna be fine. They know medicine, but I know you. You’re gonna be fine.” 

He sat in a silence for another moment, then spoke again.

"Okay, so there was this clown named Ron. And he had this act with cats, a bunch of them. So he'd be all dressed up in his makeup, and this one cat would climb up him and stand on his head. So he'd stand there, lookin’ all surprised, and then another cat would climb up him and stand on his shoulder. And then he'd bend over and this third cat would jump up on his back. And then the fourth cat and the fifth one would jump up, but the others were jumpin’ down while the new ones were jumpin’ up. 

“So then it would turn into this whole almost acrobatic thing, with cats jumpin’ all over the place, and standin’ on their hind legs, and climbing up him. And fer the grand finale, all five of ‘em would jump or climb up him, and he just stood there, smilin’ and bowin’, and all five cats was just as calm as could be.”

“So, I needed to learn how to juggle, ‘cause I needed some more money to pay back Victor. And I figure, Ron trains cats. This guy’s gotta be the most patient guy in the whole circus, right? And he really likes his cats; they live with him in his trailer, but it never smells like cat piss, ‘cause he cleans it twice a day. And he’s got this whole screened in porch contraption that he’s built, so the cats can come in or out whenever they want.”

“So I’m thinkin’, if there’s one guy in this whole circus who’s probably not gonna end up yellin’ or hittin’ me when I fuck up, it’s Ron. So I go ask him if he can teach me to juggle.”

“Now, the first thing he says is, if I need money he’ll lend me some. But then I’d end up owin’ him, and no matter how many times people say they don’t care, they do. Nothin’ good ever came of owin’ someone.”

“It’s different with you, so don’t think I mean that. You and me…”

“Well anyway, so Ron says he’ll teach me. And he goes in the trailer and comes out, ‘cause I’m still standin’ outside his screen porch, of course, and he hands me this little bean bag, and says throw it from one hand into the other. So I do.”

“He goes into this whole discussion about how I had to look to catch the bag, and you can’t do that, right? You gotta be able to throw the bag the same way every time, so it ends up in the same place every time, so you don’t gotta look for it or move your hand for it. Your catchin’ hand just opens up, and the bag lands in it. So he sends me off to practice until I can do that.”

“Well I spent somethin’ like three hours that day, practicin’ until I could do it perfect like. Then I come back to him the next day and I tell him I’m ready for the next part. He ain’t believin’ me, I can tell, so I show him.”

“He just blinks, then smiles and tells me ‘That’s really good!’. I ain’t heard that in...well I don’t even know. Since Gary told me that for not messin’ up once holdin’ stakes for him when we were puttin’ up the big tent. And he only said that once, you know? Once you get somethin’ right, from then on you gotta keep gettin’ it right every single time, or then you get yelled at. But Ron was never like that. He always told me ‘Good job,’ every single time.”

“So every day Ron would teach me somethin’ new, and I’d go off to practice. And a week later, he says I’m good enough to do some buskin’, only I’m gonna need a costume. He takes me to the clown trailer, and digs through this box and pulls out all the costumes that’re too worn out and stuff. And I ain’t told no one at the circus how I don’t see colors like they do, ‘cause I’m still thinkin’, well never mind what I thought. So I see this purple shirt with sequins, and it’s the brightest thing I ever seen, and I love it.”

“He works with Madame Zanzibar, and they get this shirt and a pair of pants to fit me, and Ron buys me a brand new pair of purple and white shoes. I cleaned the litter boxes in his trailer for a month to pay him back for those, but it was worth it. I felt like one of the stars, all dressed up in spangles.”

“I went out that afternoon buskin’, and it was the first time in I don’t know how long that I was lookin’ fer attention. I found this place where people used to hang out, in front of the big tent, right before we opened it up for performances, and I did this little jugglin’ act.”

Clint laughed. “That first time, I think I got mebbe a dollar. So fer the whole next week Ron comes out with me and shows me how to work the crowd, get them laughin’, and how to get them to give you some money. You gotta kinda convince them that they’re payin’ for somethin’, that there’s some reason for them to give you the money. We ain’t thinkin’ the real reason is gonna go over so well, so we come up with this story about how I wanna buy a bike, and my daddy says I gotta learn the value of money, so I gotta earn it.”

“We split the money we earned, then I was on my own. First night, I got $10 bucks, and I was hooked. I started learnin’ every trick I could, started watchin’ the other clowns and practicin’ their tricks. Ron got me some books, and I never told him I couldn’t read ‘em, but I studied those pictures and figured stuff out.”

“Then one day Ron took a bunch of the circus kids to go see a movie, about some girl tryin’ to rescue her kid brother from a goblin king. And there was this scene where this guy moves this crystal ball around, making it float and roll over his hands and arms. And I was hooked. Ron found me this rubber ball so I could try the moves he’d done in the movie. I snuck into that theater so many times while we were in that town, so I could see that scene, and I’d practice for hours until I figured it out. And it’s so much more than a physical skill.”

“I learned sleight of hand, and misdirection, and how to keep their eyes where I wanted ‘em. I learned how to make people think what I wanted ‘em to think, and how to react how I wanted ‘em to react. I learned who I could talk to, and joke with, and which stories made people laugh, and which ones made ‘em uncomfortable.”

“Contact jugglin’ is how I learned people, and learnin’ people let me perform. I was lookin’ fer new props for my jugglin’ that day I ended up with Trickshot’s bow, and that was, well we both know where what that led to.”

“But it started with some cats, and a guy who was crazy enough to think he could train them, and patient enough to do it.”

Clint took out an old rubber ball, and started practicing some tricks he hadn’t worked on for years. There was no crowd to practice his patter for, and no need to be perfect. The only audience he had was someone who had rarely judged him.

He practiced for hours, until it was time for him to go for the night. He smoothed her hair back from her face, and tucked the ball under her lax hand. He turned the light off as he left the room.

In the glow from the machines, some faint lines could be seen on the ball. They spelled out the letters R-N.


	4. New Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all know Clint didn't spend all of his years in the circus just working as a roustabout. At some point, he picked up a bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for probably awful medical inaccuracies. Sorry about that. Also brief mention of possible physical abuse of a child (Clint thinks someone might hit him, but it doesn't happen) as well as mention of harsh pranks meant to hurt and humiliate.

“So what’s that mean, doc?” he asked.  
The doctor said, “It means her brain activity is becoming more normal.”  
“And that means…” he prompted.  
The doctor pursed her lips and finally said, “We expect her to start waking for short periods of time. It hasn’t happened yet, and she certainly won’t be fully conscious, but we think she’s coming out of the coma.”  
Clint grinned. “I knew that, just wanted you to hear yourself saying it. Now try, ‘You were right, Agent Barton.”  
The doctor pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m still going to caution you not to get your hopes up too much. The kind of injury that she sustained-“  
“Yeah yeah yeah,” Clint interrupted. “You just keep doing what you’re doing, and let me do the rest.” He shooed the doctor out the door, and closed it behind her, before returning to his chair near the bedside.

"I think I told you about me pickin' up Trick's bow...maybe I didn't."

Clint was quiet for a moment. "Guess it won't hurt if you hear it again. If it makes you mad, I'll buy you summa that fancy ice cream, okay?"

"Like I said, I was lookin' for things I could use for my act. I snuck into the prop trailer, and played around with a bunch of the stuff I found. I can’t even remember what most of it was. It was mostly dark in there - the only light was from the open door. 

"It was the middle of summer, and it had been one of those days when the sun is poundin' down. Every step was raisin' dust from the ground, and it...I don't know how t'say it, other than it even smelled hot."

"It was evenin' by the time I got inside the trailer, but it was still just about hot enough t'bake bread. The sweat was pourin’ down my back, and in my face.”

“I was gonna keep lookin’ for just a few more minutes, and then I saw this old bow. Barney and I had shot some when we was growin’ up, rabbits and squirrels mostly, stuff we could eat. I’d mostly used a wrist rocket, but we’d both used the old man’s bow some. So I figured I’d give it a try. Found some arrows, grabbed the bow, and got outta there.”

“I went out back behind the elephants with a feed sack. Stuffed it full of the straw and shavings and manure I'd mucked outta the bull pen that mornin', sat it up against a tree, and started shootin’ at it.” He laughed ruefully. “So the first few times, I was shootin' atta sack of shit. Didn’t hit it the first time. But by the time it was too dark t'shoot, I was hittin’ it pretty consistently.”

"Didn't have no glove, so I tore my fingers up a bit, but I was pretty used to that sorta thing. I'd been doin' a lot of work 'round the circus. If you ain't skilled labor, then you're usin' your hands a lot, so I had some pretty good calluses goin'."

"I liked how it felt, bein' able to hit that target. Kinda like jugglin', like hittin' a trick just right, only for some reason this felt even better. So I kept doin' it, stealin' an hour or such every day."

 

"That's how I got caught. I was gettin’ better, a lot better, but I still lost a few arrows. That first month, I spent more time lookin’ for lost arrows than I did shootin’ arrows, but every once in a while I couldn’t find one. It started addin’ up. Buck finally started noticin’.”

"Now Buck, he's got a temper on him, so he catches me at dinner the next night and starts yelling' at me. The' only reason he ain't doing' worse, I'm figurin', is because it IS dinner, and everyone's there. So Carson steps in, and asks me why I'm doin' it, and I'm thinkin' 'bout feedin' him some bullshit line, but for some reason, I don't. I tell him the truth, that it just feels right."

"So he asks Buck if I can be in the act! I'm figurin' I'm in for a beatin’ for sure now, 'cause Buck’s madder'n hell. He starts in how he can't have some child who can't hit the bull's eye reliably, and Carson just cuts him off."

Clint had a look of awe on his face, lost in the memory. "Carson barely came up to Buck’s elbows, and here he is cuttin' him off. Never raises his voice, never gets mad, but he’s got the respect of everyone and fuckin’ Buck listens to him. Carson asks what I would have to do to get in the act.”

“Buck huffs and bluffs and shit, but eventually he says I’d have to hit the bullseye on ten different targets. So Carson nods and tells me that when I can do that, to come back and tell him.”

"I'm thinkin', holy shit. I'm excited, 'cause this is my chance t'be a performer, not just crew. And I'm scared shitless, 'cause I know I've just made an enemy. I was right, too, 'cause Buck did everythin' he could t'make my life miserable. Garbage cans got knocked over, so I had t'pick up the garbage with my hands. My blankets got put in elephant shit more'n once. Got my bread stole, missed the dinner call a few times, that sort of thing, nothing' major."

"And before you even start on how Carson shoulda stopped it, I never told 'im. Didn't have no proof it was Buck, and besides, man don't get no respect by always gettin' someone else t'solve his problems. 'Sides, I'd been through worse, I could handle this."

"So I kept practicin'. Slept with that bow at night, t'keep it from bein' stolen, and hid it durin' the day. Never you mind where, guy's gotta have SOME secrets!"

"It's fall, and we're heading' south when I come up to Carson at dinner and tell him I'm ready t'shoot in the ring. He just nods, and says 'In a bit, Pigeon."

"After dinner, him and Buck, and by this point the story's spread so half the crew's there, too, well we all go out back where I got ten feed sacks all set up in two long lines. I walk down the middle, shootin' as I walk, and I hit all ten, dead center."

“Buck starts up how this is boring, no one will like it, IF I can hit all ten all the time then MAYBE it'd be good for when folks is comin' in, sitting' down, that kinda thing. Carson starts noddin'."

"So I says for 'em to hold just a bit, and I'm back in a minute, riding one of Elizabeth's horses. I got the horse goin' at this slow canter, and I know they can hear it. As soon as we turn the corner, I stand up in the trick saddle and pull out the bow."

He grinned and moved one of his socked feet from where it rested on the side of her bed to nudge her hip. "You didn't think it took me three months just t'learn how t'shoot, didja?"  
"I didn't hit the bullseye on every one. Truth is, didn't hit bullseye on any of 'em. But I hit every damn target and then did a back flip off the horse."

"Everyone was cheerin' and clappin', and Carson's got a smile on his face. He says, ‘That’s the start of a damned fine act,’ or somethin’ like that. ‘We’ll try you out on afternoon shows.’ Buck’s behind him, lookin’ like he’s ready t’shit bricks.”

“But I didn’t care. I just got promoted to bein’ a performer. I did somethin’ that made Carson proud.”

“Best damned day of my life, for a long time.” There was a beat of silence. “Day you wake up is gonna top it.”

He rested his head on her pillow, just touching her forehead. The silence beat down on them, like the sun on a hot summer’s day.


	5. Sleeping Lions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger isn't always where you expect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for violence (not graphic but fairly horrible in concept) in this chapter; more detailed notes (spoilery) at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> Sorry to be late in posting this; sick child yesterday took precedence.

Sawdust Chapter 5 rewrite

"By the time I started performin', I was 13. It was better than any Christmas present, better than any birthday present I'd ever got, ridin' out of the shadows, across the sawdust and into that ring. I rode around for a bit, shootin' targets, then I jumped off and rolled and shot just as I came up on my feet." His smile was bright with unguarded happiness as he got lost in his memories, but his hands never stopped their work. "The crowd was cheerin' and clappin', I could smell the sawdust and elephant dung and cotton candy, I could see this one little kid up on some guy's shoulders, and it was all for me. That was...I think that was the best moment I've ever had with my bow."

The smile faded. "After a while, it got to be routine, then later, well you know what came later. And now, it's better, but it's still killin', it's still..." his voice trailed off for a moment. "You know 'bout this. But I still got that night in my mind, still got that smell in my nose."

Clint finished the clumsy braids that kept her hair from getting tangled. "Not the best job, but, you know, good enough for government work." He gave a low chuckle at his own joke, but sobered quickly.

"I know you're listenin' to me. I'm not gonna let 'em take you anywhere. Ain't gonna be long before you open those eyes, get all mad at me for wastin' time with my stories." He ran a hand over her shoulder, the touch nothing more than what he would have allowed himself if she were awake. When he spoke again, his voice was smaller.

“I believe in you, I believe you, I do. But the doctors keep sayin’ you ain’t gonna wake up from this. They wanna move you to a hospice wing. I won’t let ‘em, don’t you worry. But it’s gettin’ hard…”

He was silent for a moment, then rubbed his face against the sleeve of his t-shirt, wiping out the traces of any unshed tears. “Guess I’m gonna get back to talkin’.”

"The contract we all had said that we would perform additional duties as needed. That means that the artists ended up doing just as much of the work 'round the circus as the hawkers and carnies. I worked with the animals a lot. Didn't do no trainin', but I carried water and cleaned stalls and cages. People usually think my time in the circus was all romantic or adventurous, but really, other than performin' I just remember a lot of animal shit."  
"I helped the slanger and the boss elephant man a lot." He smiled at her. "I know you’re rollin' your eyes at me! The slanger's the cat man, trained the lions. Khurshid was Iranian, said there used to be Persian lions, so that they knew his language and would respect him, but the tigers and other cats wouldn't. So lions was all we had. Maliki, the zoo lion, was wild, so we were all real careful around her. The collector's lions, though, they used to live in his house, slept on the couch, that sort of thing."

"I used to put my hand in the cage and pet them just like they were bigger versions of Ron's cats. Their fur was a lot stiffer than a cat's. It was more like horse hair, kinda rough. They'd rub up against the bars of the cage and make this rumbling kind of a sound, like a lion version of a purr."

"In order to clean the cage, I had to let them into the arena, that's the big performance cage. They knew that they didn't have a show in the mornings, so they didn't run or nothin'. Maliki would walk in, snarlin' and showin' off. Babu, the male, would always take so long to walk down it that his girl Bibi would just lay down, so then I had to get her goin'. But Khurshid always told me that the breezeway cage wasn't secure, and I had to wait until they were in and the arena was locked before I could clean."

"Well, so most days I cleaned the cage. But this day, there was some problem with the poles that held up the bleachers, so Carson had me under 'em, tightenin' things up, and Oscar was cleanin' the cage. The big top was almost never empty, so Angela and her dad Terrence are practicin’ on the trapeze, and Lorne and Carson are lookin’ at the safety harnesses.

“Well, Babu pulls his usual stunt, and Oscar starts swearin’ at him. Oscar could cuss up a storm, so I stop workin' and just start watchin', 'cause this is gonna be good, you know?"

"Oscar closes the arena gate, so the dangerous lion is locked in and he’s safe, yeah? He puts his arm in the breezeway and pushes on Babu, and then Babu just reaches out and grabs his arm in his mouth, just snaps at him, and he's got his arm right around the elbow."

"He's screamin’ and people are runnin’ in, and Bibi reaches out and grabs Oscar’s arm, too. And then, there was blood, and growls, and then it got real quiet, 'cept for the cats.”

Clint loses a moment, then shakes his head and goes on.

“Khurshid and Terrence get the cats off him, and pushed back in their cage, and Carson’s there, and Pat the nurse, and then everything gets quiet. And Pats just stands up and walks away, and Oscar’s dead. Whole thing took maybe a minute.”

“He never would have done that with Maliki, ‘cause we all knew she was dangerous. But Babu, he was safe.”

“Angela’s standin’ on the platform at the top of their ladder, and she’s just cryin’. And Terrence her dad is helpin’ with Oscar’s body, so I climb up the ladder and then I don’t know what to do. So I just sit down next to her, and she wraps herself around me, you know? And she just cries, the whole time they’re waitin’ for the police, and then when the paramedics take Oscar’s body away, and then Marconi and Gary start cleanin’ up the sawdust, and puttin’ new down.”

“She’s finally stopped, and she’s just sittin’ there, and she looks over at me. And she says ‘Aren’t you sad?”

“Yeah I’m sad. Oscar used to sneak me candy bars, and porn mags, and he was teachin’ me how to play guitar. And I tell her that. Well, not the porno mags part, but you know what I mean.”

“And she says, “You didn’t cry.”

“So I tell her ‘Boys don’t cry.”

He held her hand throughout the night, while the doctors hammered on the door and yelled at him to open it up. He ignored them, throughout the long night, keeping his vigil, holding her hand in his.

The next morning, she opened her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint witnesses a lion attacking and killing a person. The attack is not described in detail.


	6. Sugar and Spice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint discovers that sexuality is not always what he thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in this story, here's a warning about adult content. It's not explicit, but there are sexual situations in this chapter, both F/M and M/M.

Chapter 6 Sugar and Spice

"But it's a good sign." This was a statement of fact; Clint's voice had no trace of a question in it. "That she's waking up.”

The doctor looked like he was hedging his bet. "Yes, it is. It's certainly better than the alternative.” 

“And it’s not just opening her eyes. She knows what I’m saying, doc," Clint insisted.

The doc looked sympathetic. “I know that it certainly seems that way,” the doctor hedged.

"I know her better than you,” Clint replied as he resumed his task.

"Agent Barton -" the doctor tried to continue, but Clint cut him off.

"Go fuck off, doc," he replied, putting more than a hint of bite into his words. He ignored the doctor's exit, instead starting up his newest tale.

"Girls were kinda a mystery to me, you know? At first, it was just me and Barney. There was Emma at the Linder's, but she was little, someone to protect, and, well, that didn’t work out right anyway." He grew silent for a moment, as he tried to figure out that puzzle yet again.

"No girls at the Wilkerson's, so by the time I got to Carson's, well, it was kinda weird. Half the time, the women worked right alongside the men, and worked just as hard. Might not be the same jobs, 'cause most of the guys were stronger, but the jobs were just as needed."

He leaned forward, as if it was important to him that she understood this. "While we were poundin' in the stakes, Grizzie and Sally would be figurin' out the best way to lay out the games and food stalls, so people would always have somethin' new to walk towards, or so they found the salty foods before they found the drinks. Elizabeth and Marci would be puttin' the bleachers together while we put the fences together. That sorta stuff," he explained.

"But at the same time, women were this whole different creature. Summa the guys talked down about 'em. Bein' like a girl was never a good thing - hittin’ like a girl, screamin’ or cryin’ like a girl. You didn't wanna do one of the woman's jobs, stuff like that.”

“Other guys was real protective. The women always had a different changin' room. By this time, I was runnin' around with some of the boys, and the girls would join in, but their parents wouldn't let 'em outta their sight with us around."

"So girls had me pretty confused. But around this time, I started gettin' pretty interested, too. And then the parents worked even harder to make sure I wasn't alone with their daughters."

"I was performin', and startin' to do a decent job, but I wasn't a headliner yet. And I spent a lot of time with Buck. He made people nervous, for a lot of good reasons, so that was part of it."

"Now, ever since Oscar died, Angela had been hangin’ out with me more, teachin’ me some of the trapeze work, helpin’ me empty garbage cans, watchin’ me shoot, that kinda thing.”

“This didn’t make her dad happy at all. Then this one night I heard him talkin' to Angela about me. 'We don't know where he came from, what he did.' She asked why he thought I did somethin' and he pointed out I ain't never told 'em my name. Some of 'em was just startin' to call me Hawkeye, or Hawk, but most of 'em still called me Pigeon, like Carson did."

"Anyway, so Terrence was tellin' his daughter I must have done somethin' bad, and I was some kinda criminal ‘cause I knew how to hotwire that truck the time they'd lost the keys, and how I stole things, and I was just some assistant in Buck's act, and I wasn't someone for her to be spendin' time with."

He grinned widely. "You know what happened after that talk, right? You couldn't keep her away from me. All the time she was s'posed to be doin' chores, or homework, she was with me."

"At first we just played around, goofed off, but we were kids who had a lotta unsupervised time. So one afternoon, we ran off into the woods that were behind the backyard. And there was this little creek, and we climbed down into the creekbed onto this sandbank."

"And we were talkin', and sittin’ real close, and holdin’ hands.” He laughed. “Sounds so...we were such kids, yeah? She leaned against me, and it was kinda nice, ‘cause I wasn’t used to people touchin’ me nice. You know how that is.” He stopped talking for a moment to take her hand and stroke his thumb along it. 

“We were still talkin’, silly stuff, stuff that seemed important to us at the time. And then she started runnin’ her hands up and down my arm. And that made me...you know that shivery feelin’ you get? So I turned to look at her, tryin’ to figure out why she was doin’ that, and then she leaned over and kissed me. Right on the mouth." His smile this time was almost shy.

“I started touchin’ her arms like she was touchin’ mine, and then, I don’t know, maybe she was lickin’ her lips, but she licked mine, and it was, it was the best thing I had ever felt. We started really kissin’, and we just did that, touchin’ and tastin’ each other, until she heard her brothers callin’ for her.”

“I stayed down in that creekbed for, I dunno, another hour.” He looked at her. “Not doin’ that! Just...bein’ happy about it, I guess. It was the first really nice thing that’d happened to me in a long time.”

He grew quiet for a while, lost in his thoughts. When he looked down, he saw her looking at him. He smiled. “Hey you. Nice to see you awake.” Her fingers tightened on his, almost imperceptibly. “What? Do you need somethin’? Should I get the nurse?” 

Her head moved very slightly left, then a tiny bit to the right.

“You want me to keep talkin’?” he guessed.

A miniscule nod.

“Alright. Whatch wanna hear next?” he asked.

Her lips pursed. 

“More ‘bout the kissin’?” He laughed. “Dunno how much else there is to tell. Honestly, that’s really all we was doin’ back then. We’d just steal some time, find some spot to hide in, and kiss.”

She slowly rolled her eyes.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

Another tiny head shake No.

“Why not?” he challenged.

Her eyes tracked down to his crotch. 

Clint laughed loudly. “I hear ya. Naw, I was…” he blushed a bit. “I was doin’ something’ else for that.”

She blinked.

“No, not that.” He paused for a moment. “Well, okay, yeah I was doin’ that, but not just that. I had a...there was this guy...okay, let me tell the story right, okay?”

Her lips twitched, and he gave her an embarrassed twist of his lips. “Any chance you’d let me not tell this?”

She rolled her eyes. 

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. So our winter quarters were in this little town in Florida. After our last show, we’d do a long haul and drive all the way down there. There was corrals for the animals, and barns for ‘em. And this one big barn that had a ring in it, that we could use to practice in.”

“If we walked down the dirt road for about a mile, we got to a paved road, and a bus ran down that. Doyle and I used to ride it to head into town at least once a week.” He was watching her intently, so he saw her eyes flicker. “Doyle was the son of Victor. We’ve talked about him.” He nodded at the look in her eyes. “Yeah, that Victor, the one I stole the pistol from. You think I do dumb things now, I used to be worse.”

“So anyway, Doyle and I would ride into town, wander through shops, shoplift some stuff, that sorta thing. He taught me how to pick pockets, I taught him how to hotwire cars. So one day, we were takin’ this car for a ride around, and we found a theater that was showin’ pornos. We’re too young to buy tickets, of course, but hell, we’re circus performers, right? So we sneak around back.”

She rolled her eyes, and he grinned. “You’re right, they already thought of that. But the roof wasn’t guarded, and we’re not just any delinquents, we’re CIRCUS delinquents. So we climb up on the roof of another building, I shoot an arrow into some part of the theater that’s taller than the rest of the roof. We use that line to pull over a rope, and we zip line across.”

The corners of her mouth turned up. He grinned proudly, “Yep, my first spy tricks were to go see porn. C’mon, you ain’t that surprised.”

She shook her head.

“So Doyle and I broke in through the roof, and got into the attic, ‘cause this is an old theater that’s been remodeled a few times. We find a spot where there’s some holes, and we can sit down and watch porn films for free. This is fuckin’ awesome for us, yeah?”

“Well, the first few times, they show girlie films. And we’re boys, in this real dark attic, and I figured he couldn’t see me, right? So I’m takin’ care of myself, and I’m tryin’ to be quiet, but I can hear just enough cloth rustlin’ to know he’s doin’ the same. And neither one of us ever says anythin’ to the other about it. And things go like that for two weeks. But then, this one time, they’re showin’ this film where there’s guys and girls.”

“And the afternoon goes like normal. But the next time we’re walkin’ to town, Doyle just says, outta nowhere, ‘I think I’m gay’.”

“My old man had plenty of ideas about people like that, and words, too, but I’d learned not to use those words. And I mean, he’d been wrong ‘bout black people like Terrence and Ron, and Hispanic people like Marcela and Sally, and Middle Eastern people like Khurshid, ” Clint thought for a moment. “My old man would’ve hated pretty much everyone in the circus, except Gary and Mike, who were okay, and Victor and Buck, who were two of the meanest sonsabitches in the whole place. So I was finally figurin’ out that what my old man had taught me wasn’t worth much.”

 

“There were these two guys that joined the circus, Corey and Neal. And they were a couple, made that pretty clear. Now, some of the others didn’t like this too much, but Carson wouldn’t put up with people talkin’ like that. And when Carson wasn’t around and someone did some sort of comment, Corey shut that down real quick. He only had to get into a few fights before people learned not to mess with him.”

“They were jugglers, spent all day throwin’ these heavy clubs around, so they were both pretty strong. They helped with all the tough jobs, never complained. Neither of ‘em was what I thought a gay guy would be.”

“Worst part was, I knew my old man was wrong by this point, yeah? But I still believed him. Guess some of that was Wilkerson’s fault, too. But kids talk, and we knew all the gossip. Like, no one and I mean no one trusted Buck, or Jacques, or Victor. We all knew to stay away from Gary when he’d been drinkin’. We also knew that Carson wouldn’t lie to cover for you to your parents, but he’d treat you right, was always fair. So we knew who was good and who would mess you up.”

“By this time, Corey and Neal have been with the circus for two years, and no one’s ever had any problem with ‘em. The other kids trusted them fine. I still had Oscar’s guitar, and Neal started teachin’ me how to play, and I’m startin’ to think they might be good guys. So I’m learnin’ that gay doesn’t mean bad.”

“So here I am, and Doyle just comes out and says this, and the only thing I can think to say is ‘Alright’.”

“We kept walkin’ to town, and didn’t say anythin’ else about it for the longest time. But then one afternoon the movie starts, and we can tell it’s gonna be another one with a bunch of guys in it, along with the girls.”

“Now, we had to sit pretty close to each other, to see the film, like maybe two feet apart. And Doyle, he moves closer and reaches over and puts his hand on my leg, and starts kinda rubbin’, like Angela did. And it feels okay, so I don’t say nothin’. I start doin’ the same thing back to him, like I do with Angela, only it feels a lot different.”

“Angela’s strong from workin’ on the trapeze so much, but Doyle just feels different. And it’s not bad, it’s just different. I was kinda missin’ how soft Angela was in some places but she wasn’t there, you know?”

“Another thing that was different from Angela, is that things moved on pretty quick. We ended up...helpin’ each other out.”

“And that’s how things went for a while. I didn’t get much time with Angela, ‘cause her folks tried to keep us apart. When we did steal some time, we’d spend it just talkin’, and kissin’.”

“Doyle, that was different. I asked him if he was doin’ this because he was into me, because I knew I wasn’t really into him. He said ‘Not really, but I like the…’ 

Clint grew silent for a bit, then continued quietly. “It was like, Angela was what I wanted, but I knew I wouldn’t ever get her. People like me didn’t end up with people like her. She was soft and beautiful and had a family, she smelled so nice all of the time. Doyle, I didn’t want him, and he didn’t want me, but it felt good, and if that was all I could get then I was gonna take it.”

He shrugged. “So that’s how things went, for a while. What I wanted, and what I could have. Story of our lives, right?”

She had fallen asleep at some point in the story. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Sorry I’m not your family, or someone else like that. You deserve better’n me, but while you let me, I’ll be here for you, okay?”

His final comment was almost inaudible. “Because no one should have to go through this alone.”


	7. The Deerhunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People will pay you to do the dirty work that they won’t do themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: discussion of hunting for food. More detailed description at end of chapter
> 
> Sorry I missed last week; life got hectic!

Sawdust Chapter 7 The Deerhunter  
Clint is 14  
*************  
She tried again. “You words yesterday hospital morning look like...” Her words trailed off and she smacked her hand against the bed in frustration.

He moved close enough to hold her hands if he needed, if he had to keep her from hurting herself. “You want me to keep talkin’, keep tellin’ stories?” 

She nodded. 

He snorted in laughter. “You actually interested in any of this, or you just like hearin’ my voice?”

“Have tell bad no boy mother.” She turned her head to stare out the window, her hands clenching and unclenching.

“Oh, gathering black mail material on me, is that it?” he said teasingly.

She turned back to him and gave him a small smile, but the intensity of her stare gave it more weight. She was worried. Words were her primary weapon.

“Docs say there’s a good chance it’ll get better. You focus on that. And until then, I can translate for you, alright?”

“Bad pudding tell not.”

That one took him a bit longer, then he grinned. “No I won’t! Well, okay, I will totally tell them to bring you extra pudding so I can eat it, but mostly, MOSTLY I will tell them the right things.” He didn’t duck as she swatted at his head, taking the swat as a love tap.

 

"Like I said, we weren't exactly the Ringlin' Brothers Circus, you know? On a good year, we broke even. Anythin' we could do to save money was a good thing. We'd wash clothes in a creek, cut the lights as soon as the crowds cleared, try to find grass for the stock to eat so we didn't have to feed 'em hay. We had beans n' rice more times than I could count. 'Course, most of us had been without enough that we didn’t complain much, but still…"

"Anyway, I got to thinkin'. A deer's gonna get you about 30 pounds of meat or more, and if you're lucky you can get more than one. If the timin' works out, I can get us some deer in a few states, save us a chunk of change. And the cats can eat a lot of the stuff we can't, so that saves us buyin' meat for them. And there’s plenty of game other than deer, too, pigs and turkeys and hell, rabbits and doves and squirrels."

"So I go to Carson and ask to borrow one of the trucks, and he's gotta ask why, so I tell him. And he frowns and starts sayin' that's poachin'. Now, way I was raised, we didn't follow laws unless there was a cop around, but Carson's this honest person. So he looks into huntin' licenses. I ain't even told anyone my name, and I damn sure ain't got any ID. Even if I did, I wouldn't give it to no one, on account of me bein' wanted for murder and all. So I'm arguin' with him about it. And he's arguin' right back."

"Mike's been there this whole time. At first he was workin', and then he was pretendin' to work, and then he was just watchin'. Things go on like this for a while, and then he says, ‘How 'bout I get a license and take Mr. Amazin' Hawkeye here with me?’"

“Out name drop Pigeon?” she asked.

He poked her in the side affectionately. "I wasn't wantin' to be called Pigeon no more. C'mon, I was fourteen, who would want to be called Pigeon when you had a cool stage name like Hawkeye?"

She rolled her eyes.

"So anyway, Mike would get a license in the states we traveled through, and early Tuesday morning, ‘cause we usually didn’t have performances Tuesday night, he'd drive us to the Wildlife Management Area or State Forest or whatever was closest. We'd walk around for a bit, until I found a good spot, and set up the stand. He'd sleep or read some magazine or somethin', and I'd wait for deer."

"After I shot one, he'd stay in the stand while I tracked the deer, and field cleaned it. I could usually drag 'em out in my own, but if I couldn't he'd help me. We'd tag 'em, load 'em in the truck, and take 'em back.”

“Hope not he gun?”

“Um, why didn’t he help with the huntin’?” 

She nodded.

“You gotta understand, Mike was one of the laziest people I ever met. He was perfectly happy sittin’ in a chair in front of his RV, just watchin’ people work. He’d help if you asked him to, never said no, never complained, but you’d have to ask him every single time. He never just did work, never volunteered, never offered help. After a while, it was just easier to do it yourself. And like I said, a lot of times I could do it. I wasn’t eatin’ fancy, but I’d been eatin’ steady at Carson’s for three years, and I’d been workin’ hard, so I finally had me some muscle.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

He laughed. “I ain’t sayin’ I was some body builder or nothin’, but when the gillies picked fights, I could hold my own now, and it wasn’t always ‘cause I fought dirty. I was still small, but I was a lot stronger’n I looked.”

She wrinkled her brow.

“Gillies?”

She nodded.

“That’s what we called townies,” he explained. “You know, like civilians, or muggles.” 

She smiled at that.

“One time, some gillies walked up on me when I had a deer hangin’, and this girl started yellin’ at me for killin’ Bambi and how horrible I was. So I pointed out that she was holdin’ a half eaten hot dog and she starts in on how that’s different, ‘cause pigs is meant to be eaten. So I told her what she could do with her opinion, and her dad complained to Carson, and I had to apologize for bein’ rude.”

“Apologize for being rude.”

“Hey, that was pretty good!” He gave her a high five, then continued on, “I could handle the gillies gettin’ their panties in a twist. But what really got to me was the cirkies started treatin’ me different.”

“I didn’t have a caravan, I was in a tent. So no showers for me. I’d get a bucket and a washcloth and some soap. And I didn’t have a lot of clothes, just some jeans and t-shirts and flannels. So I got some blood on ‘em, and since I was washin’ my clothes in the same bucket, I didn’t get ‘em washed right away, and they got stained. And as soon as you start walkin’ around with blood stains, people look at you different. Grizzie and Dwight didn’t talk to me no more. Sally and Neal still did, but it made them nervous. Ron just looked sad all the time. Svana, she talked, but it was like she was better than me now. Her old man Darko’d talk about me behind my back, along with Victor.”

“But every single one of ‘em took the meat. Victor traded me beer. Svana and Darko paid me cash. I got a campstove from Ron and fuel for it from Grizzie. Mackie’s paid for the gas the truck needed. That sort of thing. They’d all pay for the meat, trade for it, but the person who hunted it, the person who actually killed for it, they looked down on me for that.”

“That’s when I started figurin’ out that people will pay you to do the dirty work that they won’t do themselves. And it pays pretty good. Made more from huntin’ than I made from jugglin’ for the crowds. I learned that you’re gonna trade their respect and so-called friendship for their fear. And that wasn’t always so bad, neither. Sometimes fear solved problems that respect and friendship didn’t.”

“Fear doctors night stay here fly.”

He puzzled through that. “Oh, the doctors let you stay in the hospital wing because they were afraid of me?”

She nodded.

“You’d’ve done the same for me,” he replied, utter conviction in his voice. “Besides, they’re more’n a little afraid of you.” 

“Prey,” she said.

“Yeah,” he replied softly. He scooted his chair closer, so he could gently tuck a strand of her hair back behind her ear. “They know who the predators are.”

She smiled, looking satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint discusses hunting for food; he trades some of the meat for goods and services. He mentions butchering the animals himself (not graphic) and talks about his clothes getting bloodstained.


	8. Death and Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I killed six people.” His eyes met hers. “What the hell does that say about me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warning: graphic description of human and animal death. I didn't write it for kicks and giggles, and I've tried to make them meaningful. But please be aware of your own emotional health.

She opened her eyes to see the black clad assassin in her room. He was seated in the chair in the corner, a hard sided case on the floor at his feet. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, motionless. 

Natasha sat up and mirrored his position.

“How did the op go?” she asked quietly.

“It’s done. I got all of them,” he said, still staring at the floor. “The one that did that to you, he went last.”

She nodded, then looked at him more closely. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. Debriefed, showered, got hungry so I grabbed a cheeseburger before I came here. You didn’t wake up when I came in, so I figured you needed the sleep. Just been sitting here, thinking.”

“Anything good come of that?” she asked. Sometimes when she asked that, her tone would be teasing. In the cold dark hours after midnight, the question was sincere.

“I killed six people, Nat. Then I came back and ate a cheeseburger.” His eyes met hers. “What the hell does that say about me?”

She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulled until he sat down on the bed next to her. He kept his gaze on the floor.

She looked at him. “That you thought those deaths were justified.”

“Who the hell am I to make those kinds of decisions?” he asked.

“That’s why we don’t. There are whole teams who make these decisions, you know that,” she chided him.

“But in the end, it’s my call. My hand on the string. And I put an arrow into every one of them, and…it’s not that I enjoyed it. But I just…didn’t care. It’s a sense of satisfaction, that I got the job done. That’s it, that’s all I feel for them. Shouldn’t I feel something, for killing six people?” 

She thought he was asking the question of himself, more than her, but she still answered him. “Are there deaths you’ve felt something else for?”

She sat quietly, while he took a long moment to collect his thoughts. When he spoke again, she could hear the cadences of his youth, the not-quite-an-accent that he sometimes had in his private moments. She knew he was back in his past.

“This one day, when I was fifteen, we were settin’ up the big top. It was one of our longer hauls, and we’d been drivin’ all night, pulled in just after sunrise, some town in Missouri. Even though it was mornin’, the grass was dry and the ground was baked hard, dust risin’ up at every step. No breeze – you know how it can get in summer. Everyone was kinda cranky and tired, and wantin’ to just get their jobs done so we could get some sleep.”

He shifted his weight.

“Sally and Angela and Marcela are all rolling out the canvas, and Marconi and Gary and me are gettin’ the hammers and poles and stakes. Everyone else is settin’ up caravans and booths, Elizabeth and Grizzie are settin’ up the horse corrals, things we’ve all done a thousand times. Normal settin’ up day for us. Darko and Svana bring up the elephants, like always. Marlene starts wanderin’ off, and Darko just reaches out with the elephant hook and pulls her back, like normal.”

He looked around the room, not meeting her eyes.

“Only she doesn’t react like normal. She doesn’t come. She swings around and faces him. He’s talkin’ to her, but there’s so much noise around that I can’t hear what he’s sayin’. Bangs and rattles of poles bein’ pulled out of the trucks, someone must be in the wrong spot in the Back Yard because horns are blarin’, Marconi’s yellin’ at Mike ‘cause he’s sittin’, I’m comin’ up with the stakes.”

“It’s all normal stuff, yeah? Stuff that’s happened hundreds of times. I don’t know what it was, I don’t…”

Clint took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, deeper, his words chosen carefully.

“Marlene turned to walk off, and Darko moves up with the hook again. And she reaches out with her trunk and just…grabs him. She pulls him up in the air and…she slams him down on the ground. And again and again.”

Clint was staring at the far wall. She was certain he only saw that hot, dusty morning.

“There must have been noises, then, but when I remember it, it’s like this silent film I’m watchin’. No yellin’, no horns, no bangs and rattles. I was meters away, I can’t… there’s no way I…” He looked down. “When I remember it, the only thing I can hear is the thud of his body hittin’ the ground.”

He went quiet for a long moment, until some conversation in the hallway outside intruded, shaking him out of his reverie.

“I used to share my bread with Marlene. I brought buckets of water for her, helped bring her hay. There were nights when I slept on her back.”

Light from the digital clock on the nightstand glistened on his cheeks.

“She threw Darko, and he just spun through the air like a rag doll. She trumpeted, and just came runnin’ at us. Mike ducked under the truck he was sittin’ in front of, and she ran past him. She hit Gary with her trunk, and he just…crumpled. She put her foot down on him, and … pushed. Then she looked around and went after someone else.”

“I started runnin’ for the prop trailer, while everyone is scatterin’, tryin’ to get out of her way. I grab my bow, and my quiver of hunting arrows, because I know there’s no way one arrow is bringing her down, not with the bow I’m usin’. People nowadays take elephants with one arrow, but they’re pullin’ over 80 pounds. I was shootin’ 40 at most.”

“And then…then I run towards all of the screamin’.”

“I came up behind her. Grizzie was on top of a truck, and Marlene had her head down, pushin’ on the front of the truck, pushin’ it backwards. I was usin’ another one of the big trucks as cover, so I stepped just enough out to sight, nocked and drew and put an arrow as deep into her side as I could.”

“She spun towards me, but I was already duckin’ back behind my truck. I ran down along it, but I can hear her catchin’ up to me. I can hear her feet and I can feel the ground shakin’. I don’t know if that was real or not, but I would have sworn it was true that day.”

“I dropped to the ground and rolled under the truck, all the way under the trailer, came up in the row in between the lines of vehicles. Got to my feet and started runnin’ faster than I’ve ever run in my life. I get a bit of a head start, then she must have figured out what I did. I hear her trumpet and she’s comin’ after me again.”

He started bouncing his leg up and down.

“I turn around and put an arrow into her trunk, but it doesn’t stop her at all, and it slows me down a lot. I dropped and rolled under another semi trailer, but she’s got this figured out, now. She starts pushin’ on the trailer. I didn’t even have time to stand up, just did this scrabblin’ run on all fours towards the front of the truck.”

“I’m just clearin’ the cab when the whole trailer comes crashin’ over, and she’s pushin’ on the bottom, just … if she’d been human I’d say she was yellin’ with rage. I come around the front of the truck, and I’ve got a side view. Lined up the shot, put an arrow in her eye.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “She…I don’t know how to describe the sound she made. I’m thinkin’, this will make her run, she’ll run off and I can get someone to drive a truck for me so I can try to finish it. But she doesn’t run. She turns so she can see me with her good eye.”

“I’m out of room to run. We’re in the carnival midway, with trailers and booths half set up all around us. There’s supposed to be an aisle perpendicular to the one I’m in, but it’s a dead end, with a truck that wasn’t in the right spot yet. I’ve got nowhere to run, nothin’ I can climb under or over that she can’t push over faster than I can make it.”

His breathing increased, and she could see sweat on his brow, his hands clenching and unclenching, looking for his bow.

“I turn around, and there she is. She’s standin’ there, maybe seven meters or so away from me. She’s lookin’ for me with her good eye, and just as she sees me, I take that shot and put an arrow in it.”

“We’re in this box made of vehicles, and it’s maybe ten meters or so square, which sounds big until you put an elephant into it. I duck and run along, just to not be in the same spot I was before. I’ve only got two arrows left, two arrows to take down an elephant, and I’m shootin’ a bow with twisted limbs that I bought at a yard sale.”

“She pushes over a concession stand, one that sells cotton candy and popcorn. Everything smells like that fake butter and sugar, and it’s so quiet, all you can hear is both of us breathin’ hard. She fans her ears out and turns to face me. I try to hold my breath, but then I hear Carson.”

“He’s squeezed between two of the trailers, it’s a tight fit, even for him. He’s got no chance of makin’ it out quickly, and he’s got one leg that gives him trouble. He can walk just fine, but he can’t run. And there he is, callin’ out to her.”

“She turns to face him, and I’ve got the shot. I’m already runnin’ up to her, and when I’m maybe three meters away I put one into her lungs. She flinches, and it gives me enough time to put my last arrow into her heart.”

His voice catches. “It’s not enough to drop her.”

“I manage to make it past her, and head back down the aisle we came up. I’m yellin’, tryin’ to pull her away from Carson. She follows me most of the way before she stumbles and hits this truck. I can hear it, so I turn, and I can see her just sort of lean on it, then slide down.”

“I kinda slid down too, ended up on my ass in the dirt, lookin’ at her. I stayed there with her while she bled out. Everyone came up behind me, stood there, and we all watched her die.” His voice stuttered to a halt.

She took his hand in hers. He squeezed it, as if it was a lifeline. “I killed six men yesterday, and felt nothing. But I still cry over that elephant.”

She wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I think that was the first death you regretted. I know it’s not the last. I know you, Clint. You aren’t an indiscriminate killer, not any more. You don’t deal death lightly.” 

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I thought you were going to die, Nat. I thought I’d lost you.”

She leaned against him. “I did, too. But I heard your voice, and I had something to come back to.” He relaxed his grip, but didn’t let her go.

For long moments, their breathing was the only sound in the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who's been here for this story, through laughter and tears and discoveries and death and a rebirth. Kudos and reviews give such a boost, and really are an author's payment. I hope the story lived up to your expectations. I am still working on this 'verse; there are currently two works in progress. One is a (sort of) prequel to Once Was Lost, and the other is a mission fic (sort of) when Clint is still fairly new to SHIELD. Life is interfering (in a good way!), and writing is going slowly, but I'm still here and still writing.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, and thank you for reading. Kudos are always welcomed, and reviews are an author's lifeblood.


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